


another year has gone by and i'm still the one by your side

by letsperaltiago



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Baby’s First Christmas, Canon Compliant, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Married Life, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Secret Crush, Smut, christmas calendar, oneshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27921928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letsperaltiago/pseuds/letsperaltiago
Summary: Christmas Calendar 2020 - every few days of December I will post a Christmas oneshot.
Relationships: Jake Peralta/Amy Santiago
Comments: 29
Kudos: 122





	1. as long as you're with me it's always the time of the year

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to letsperaltiago's christmas calendar 2020! 
> 
> Happy month of December to all of you sweet people out there! To celebrate this joyous month, hoping it’ll be a decent end to an otherwise hella effed up year, I have decided to make this fic-calendar for both you and me.  
> Every 6th day of December, until Christmas eve, thus four times, I will post a holiday Peraltiago oneshot filled with only joy, fluff and goodness. Without spoiling too much, the four stories will represent different stages of Jake and Amy. Everything beyond that will remain secret until the day of a new story. 
> 
> I will post on both tumblr and AO3, and update the calendar (see picture on tumblr @letperaltiago) with every new opened door. I will also use the tag #letsperaltiago christmas 2020! 
> 
> I hope that you will enjoy whatever I end up creating! 
> 
> ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄
> 
> chapter one: pre-dating

The smell of pine trees, cinnamon and every other Christmas spice imaginable hangs over the precinct when Jake walks in on his day off. Normally he’d never set a foot near work on one of his holy days off, but today is the precinct’s annual Christmas party, and that he of course isn’t stupid enough to miss. Who would want to miss out on happenings like Boyle bringing some unknown Christmas-snack no one would ever want; drunk-Amy making an appearance; Gina hustling secret Santa gifts from young beat cops? Not Jake, that’s for sure. 

This year’s party is being held on the third floor, the Special Victims Unit’s floor, and the second the elevator doors open before him Jake is met by the loud buzz made up of Christmas music, and people talking and laughing. Colors are everywhere; from the different, ugly shirts and Christmas sweaters people are wearing to the familiar, cliché Christmas decorations which have probably been reused for the past twenty Christmas parties. It’s horribly perfect, Jake thinks. Perhaps he _hates_ the holidays, yes, but he does _love_ the messy parties they bring along. 

“Jakey! Welcome!” 

The detective has just barely stepped out of the elevator, onto festive grounds, when Charles appears right before him, holding two mugs of what appears to be some hot liquid. Jake is by no means very religious although he still prays to higher powers that said hot liquid is not that mulled Norwegian fish-wine his friend brought last year. Charles hands over one of the mugs and Jake is seriously afraid to look or, potentially even more hazardous, breathe in the toasty steam rising from it. 

“Hey, bud. What’s that?” 

“Mulled wine!” Charles takes a sip of his own mug meanwhile Jake can’t stop eyeing him, suspiciously so, because if there is one thing Jake doesn’t trust his best friend with then it’s primarily and definitely anything food and drink-related. 

“ _Actual_ mulled wine or fish-wine?”

There is no getting around the fact that Charles is obviously hurt by the lack of trust his best friend is showing, when the little man’s face falls deadpan. “It happened _once_ , Jake. One time.”

They start walking towards the briefing room, one much bigger than the one on their floor, where the life of the party is.

“I threw up for two days straight after last time - just saying, bud!” 

Jake dares to smell the beverage and it does actually smell like actual mulled wine, so he hesitantly takes a sip, just in case it turns out he’s been betrayed. Alas the flavor tells him the liquid is indeed normal mulled wine, which makes this yet another cracked case for Peralta. 

Inside the briefing room that is crowded with people, both some he knows and a lot that he doesn’t, a Christmas tree and all kinds of snacks and drinks, it’s hard to tell who is from what department and honestly? Jake doesn’t care. As long as people seem to be a good time and are willing to laugh at his hilarious charms then he’s down to clown. Or down to Santa - whatever Christmas-saying is more suitable. 

“Has Gina scored herself some gifts yet? And how many drinks is Santiago at?” 

Jake awaits an answer while his friend pours himself some more of the warm wine, and puts the time to good use by removing his leather jacket before hanging it on a random chair nearby. The party will be hot, literally, he figures. 

“Hmm, last time I saw Gina she was up to two already…”

“Noice,” Jake nods in approval, mentally noting to check in with his friend later. This has to be the year she beats her record of eights gifts in one evening. 

“... And Amy was up to one.”

“Not good enough.”

“We’ve only been here for an hour, Jake.” 

Jake pauses. With the winter sun setting so early, he thought he’d missed out on hours of partying when in reality Boyle is right: it’s just barely 6.30 and he’s missed out on so little. 

“Fair. I’ll give her that. Where is she anyway?” 

Boyle turns just in time to see his friend scouting the room in hopes of finding his partner. 

“Someone’s eager to hang out with Amy.” Just as his facial expression, rocking cocking eyebrows and a knowing smirk, Charles’ voice is laced with teasing tones. It’s no secret that Jake commiting to his feelings and acting on them, especially now that both him and Amy are single (and totally into each other, if you ask Charles) is at the top of the older detective’s wishlist - no matter how creepy it is. 

“Shut up. I have a girlfriend.” Images of Sophia flash before him, the face she made when he promised her he didn’t like Amy anymore, and deep down Jake feels guilty. The feeling is quickly pushed aside though; he’s done nothing wrong and will do nothing wrong. He’s with Sophia - not Amy. “I just need to laugh at someone and Amy just so happens to be the perfect candidate.”

“Just like she’s perfect in every other way?” 

“Boyle!” Jake lightly punches his friend on the arm and it almost causes Charles to spill the hot beverage. Just barely, he manages to restore the liquids balance and keep it in the cup. 

“Hey! You almost made me drop my _glühwein_ !” Leave it to Charles to pronounce the foreign word _perfectly_ , and leave it to Jake to, as per usual, roll his eyes at it. 

“Anyways, are you going to tell me where Amy is or not?” 

The two friends stand back, facing the crowd in an attempt to comb through it, however everyone’s outfits seem so alike - ugly and colourful - and so it quickly hits them just how pointless the mission is. 

“I don’t know about know, but last time I saw her she was by the women’s bathroom talking to Rosa. Haven’t seen her since.” 

“Hm, okay,” Jake mumbles. “I’ll be right back. I just wanna say hi.”

“Sure you do.”

Quickly decoding the way his words are drenched in a certain teasing tone, Jake doesn’t even need to look at his friend to know there’s a knowing smirk plastered across his face. There’s no doubt: it’s easier for him to just walk away without looking back - so he does. 

Boyle is a fool if he thinks he’s got a thing for Amy - that ship has long sailed. In the past, yes, he did have feelings for Amy… But that was before. Before Teddy and Sophia; before realising they were better off as friends; before, before, before. Sure, he’d felt something flare up inside of him that night at the inn with Teddy and Sophia when it was suddenly revealed that Amy used to like him, perhaps still did? He’ll admit that. However that entire trip was crazy, all kinds of emotions on display, and anything that said and/or happened there should be taken with a pinch of salt. Yes, he _used to_ like Amy, ‘used to’ being the keyphrase. Now he was happy with Sophia and couldn't possibly have feelings for Amy. At least not romantic feelings, no. Friendly feelings, the sensation of being happy when around her? Sure.  
Now, months after said roadtrip to hell, things were back to normal: they were partners and friends, without any weirdness or doubt about the fact. That was it and the way it would stay, no matter what anyone said - especially Charles. 

Suddenly he spots her, across the room in a corner with a cup in hand, talking to someone on the phone. The iconic red cup causes a smile to grow on Jake’s face as he is granted an early Christmas wish: drunk-Amy is going to make an appearance tonight. He appreciates all sides of Amy, although drunk-Amy is extra fun - especially ever since Gina let him in on the Santiago-drunkenness scale. 

It takes her a second to pick up on his approach, but the second she sees him he receives a smile in return. Her hair is loose and shiny as alway. For tonight’s occasion it has a silvery head band holding it in place. To no one’s surprise, even less Jake’s, she’s wearing what he recognizes as her famous Santiago-dress pants. Although the blazer and usually colored shit has been replaced with a neatly ironed white shirt. The silver headband along with the white shirt? Of course Amy would go for an angel-look instead of a tacky red Santa or a green elf like many of their colleagues. Then again: white does look good really good on her, Jake admits to himself, and if it wasn’t for the fact that Charles’ words were stuck on repeat in his mind then maybe he would’ve told her. A nice, _friendly_ compliment like… “You look pretty” or whatever other nice, not inappropriate thing he could say. It’s easier to say nothing at all, he figures. 

The crowd around him is loud but he can hear her talking as he closes in on her. He waves to her and she half-mindedly waves back clearly focused on the conversation she’s in the midst of. 

“Okay, yeah…”

He stops next to her and sips on his drink while she finishes up. 

“We’ll go meet Santa on Sunday then… Yeah, I’ll meet you there. Bye.”

Although he hates to admit it, Jake is happy to see her hang up. It means she can switch her attention to him. 

“Tinder date?” He asks. 

She looks up, from putting her phone away, with what Jake considers the iconic _‘_ you’re an idiot’-grimace, as a consequence reminding him of the one thing he has a hard time admitting - even to himself: she looks really cute doing just that and he likes that he’s the one person that can bring it out of her. 

“Ha. Ha.” Her fake laugh is drier than the failed Christmas cookies she brought last year. “What do you think I do on Tinder-dates?”

“Meet Santa - apparently.”

It’s clear as day that the young man takes immense pleasure in the easygoing banter, the special kind he can only have with Amy, and even though his mouth says and shows one thing then his shining eyes definitely don’t agree. Infatuation is the word although he would never dare to call himself out on it. That was Charles’ job, but luckily no one, to Jake’s advantage, would ever believe the always way too excited little man.

“I can’t believe how funny you are, Peralta,” Amy retorts, voice stuck in the same still flat tone that tries to make believe she isn’t very amused and delighted by the fact that Jake located her just to tease her. It’s a special kind of attention, one she at times has dreaded but with time slowly and surely has come to like - a lot. Even though she pretends not to. 

“I can’t believe you go on Tinder-dates, Santiago.” 

“I never said I did? You did.” She crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow in objection. 

“Right, right… Forgot you used to have feelings for me, which means you must’ve cut off all dating in hopes of me coming around one day.”

In all honesty Jake can’t, for the life of him, figure out why he says what he does sometimes. Although, apparently, there must be somewhat truth to it considering how Amy feels her palms heat up against her cold drink, blood rushing to her face where it quickly takes apparent form as a rosy color tinting the apples of her cheeks. Jake, even though it’s so very tempting, tries not to think any of it. Replaying in his mind is the look of confusion and pain on Amy’s face when it was brought up that Amy used to like him. Perhaps it was true but if bringing it up, in a context that wasn’t just for fun and banter, would cause Amy the same troubled feelings from back at the Maple Drip Inn, then it definitely wasn’t worth bringing up again. He shouldn't have said that. Amy didn’t have feelings for him anymore - chapter closed. 

“Sorry. Bad joke.”

“It’s fine.” She tries to chuckle it off but he knows a genuine Amy-laugh and this isn’t it. 

“Anyways,” Jake takes another sip of his drink leaving the word hanging in the air for a few seconds, aspiring for a change of subject, in case his partner wants to take advantage. She doesn’t though. His turn, he figures. “If not a mystery man, then who was it?”

She shakes her head smiling at his persistence. “It was my brother Anthony. Him, Christian and I are taking my nephews and nieces to meet Santa.”

“Wow, all five hundred of them?” 

Amy has to laugh at this, a genuine laugh this time, one with no snarky comment because he’s kind of right: her family is huge and she appreciates him taking note of it even though the number is horribly wrong. 

“Almost… Just the ten of them.” 

A shared chuckle between the two settles a nice and comfortable atmosphere around the two; one where the rest of the room disappears into the background and it’s just the two of them laughing and poking at each other as if there’s no half-awkward and delicate taboo to dance around. 

Sadly the moment isn’t meant to last for much longer. Jake is halfway into one of his crazy stories, making Amy laugh louder and louder with every sip of her first drink. Out of nowhere, a heavy figure, certainly bigger than Amy’s, comes tumbling into her from the side and it to no one’s surprise results in her drink flying out of her hands, splashing all over her. Amy lets out a whelp, time stands still, everything seems to go silent as everyone around Amy, Jake included, stares in horror at the sudden mess. 

Her drink, an unknown clear liquid mixed with melting ice, meets her previously so white and crisp shirt immediately soaking it - there’s no saving it.

“Oh, shit.” The stutter comes from the young man of the hour, someone Jake quickly recognizes at the loud and ruthless - and that’s coming from Jake - beat cop, Officer Miller. Jake finally snaps out of his daze, surprise and disbelief having him thrown completely off track. It’s then he really notices the look of horror on his partner’s half-drenched, very disappointed face, and even though he’s not to blame and it’s barely been ten seconds since the moment of collision, he wishes he’d reacted sooner. 

“Oh my gosh,” Amy spits out, the sad remains of her drink plastered to her lower face and clothes. 

“Fuck,” Miller adds another stutter to the list of pointless doings, right amidst the act of just standing there completely incapable of anything at all. From his point of view, Jake is witnessing the hopelessness play out before him - Amy frozen, in shock, and Miller simply staring in disbelief at the consequences of his own acts - when he suddenly notices how the young officer’s eyes shamelessly wander, from where they were looking at Amy’s face, downwards. Why whould he-

Jake’s eyes trail along, ingeniously, but quickly fly back to where they were looking at the offender - this time with rage in them. Miller’s eyes are still gawking at one specific area on Amy: her torso where her previously nice, white shirt - one Jake can picture Amy spending hours ironing and being excited to wear - is now very much see-through.

“Hey, what the hell, man!” 

Jake is by no means a violent person, nevertheless he can’t contain himself. Not when Amy is right before him looking like a lost puppy. He lightly punches the other man’s shoulder.

“What the hell, yourself! Don’t touch me!” Miller, having finally snapped out of his perverted daydream, defends himself and takes a threatening step towards Jake. 

“Jake, it’s okay-” Just like all the seminars have taught her, Amy tries to interrupt the escalating conflict; one that’s somehow partly her fault but at the same time not at all. However, feeling very exposed, starting to feel anxious, she doesn’t force anything. Left to do is nothing but to stand back and watch Jake stand his ground - even when the younger but notably taller man steps up to him.

“How about you have some decency and apologize to my partner?” 

Jake is enraged, obviously by the drink-incident itself, but mostly by the young officer’s disrespectful reaction that followed suit. On the occasion that he wouldn’t much rather use his energy on listening to and helping Amy then maybe, just maybe, he would’ve engaged further. Inside his head he counts down from ten, still glaring with fiery eyes at Miller, and not moving before he’s reached zero. As if on cue Amy breaks the silence. 

“Jake… Let it go. It was an accident.”

She’s too good for her own self, he thinks. Her voice is shaky, not disturbingly so but just enough to get Jake to turn around, and his reasoning is confirmed: his energy and time is better spent helping her, however he can. The crowd around them has once again started buzzing, as if nothing ever happened, and the only thing Jake has eyes for is Amy and the distressing way in which she has her arms crossed before her in an attempt to hide herself. Her body’s posture obviously translates to her facial features, the anxiety starting to show, so of course Jake wastes no time; without further hesitation, he pulls off his iconic blue hoodie and makes sure to help it onto her, shielding her from the rest of the party. Once in a while he throws a glance at her face, and he can tell the very second it hits her that he must’ve seen it too since he knows what’s going on. 

“Don’t worry about it. Except for that idiot, no one saw anything. Don’t think about it… Okay?” He reassures her, hopefully putting her mind at ease, and makes sure to catch her eyes before continuing. Hopefully she believes him. 

“Thank you,” she whispers as they stand face to face while Jake makes sure his hoodie is covering her properly. He wants to smile, be the good in her dreadful situation, but still feeling too pissed he can only muster a nod before he wraps a protective arm around her shoulder. “Come with me, Amy. Lets go fix this.” It’s his way of telling her to come with him, that she can trust him and that he’ll take care of it. He can feel her follow him, thus guiding her to the elevator. 

**❄** **❄** **❄** **❄** **❄** **❄ ❄**

Still in a somewhat trance-like state, Amy lets Jake guide her, arm safely around her shoulder and small-talking to keep her calm, down the dimly lit hall of the basement and into the Nine-Nine’s men’s locker room. Her soaked shirt has slowly started soaking through Jake’s hoodie, the wet tips of Amy’s hair dripping onto it as well, and there’s a very good reason Jake has brought her where he has. He doesn’t waste a second and gently sits her down on the bench in the middle of the many lockers. 

“Just sit tight, Ames. I’m going to fix this.”

She nods instead of breaking her silence, still feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the embarrassing situation which has unfortunately triggered an anxious part of her that she most of the time can keep in check. Alas this situation was too much, understandably so, and all she has to cling onto is her partner rummaging rather aimlessly through what she _hopes_ is his locker. Must be; the inside of the door is covered in a Die Hard poster, and Amy feels herself smile a bit at the sight. That is so very Jake Peralta. Even more so when, during the intense search, all kinds of random items accidently fall out of the locker. Everything from packs of gum and old receipts to DVDs and lonely socks. 

“Aha! Knew I had it in here!”

Jake pulls a chequered item from the depths of his - very messy, Amy can’t help but shudder - locker before turning to her with a wide, proud smile that lets her know: mission accomplished. He puts a red flannel on display for her and his smile never falters. “On top of being clean and warm it’s also red. _Very_ christmassy, Santiago.”

“Have you just… always had that in there?” 

“Probably since I transferred here,” Jake chuckles as he throws all the things that fell out during his search for the flannel back into the chaos of the locker. “Red is not my best color, so I just keep it in there in case I need a change of clothes…” he trails off as if he’s considering his next move, then his head whips around to look at her. “... Or, like, in case my best friend is in trouble. Might not be up to Santiago-standards but I promise it isn’t gross or anything.” 

Amy can’t fight it as tiny butterflies break free in her stomach at the sight of her caring partner, someone she could potentially see as more but alas she’ll never say out loud, send her that small, mischievous yet shy smile of his. Instead of saying anything, too baffled to say anything coherent, her eyes will secretly sparkle and heart do a double take. A joke can perhaps do the job, she thinks, hating how Jake-like she’s become over the years. 

“Best friend? I don’t see Boyle in here.”

“What a silly thing to say, Santiago.” Having stuffed all of his randomness back into the locker, he turns back to look at her. “You know very well that you’re my best friend, too.” 

Silence, more intense than their usual comfortable ones, fall over them as their eyes stay in touch. It’s as if someone’s supposed to say something, supposed to confess, but nothing of that nature presents itself. Instead Jake clears his throat. 

“Now take your wet shirt off and put this on.” He hands her the flannel and for a second their eyes lock again. She takes it from him and keeps their eyes locked, for just a second too long as if she’s trying to communicate through the stare. A tension, one made of something unspoken, once again connects them. Too bad Jake’s quick to divert the situation by clearing his throat, she think, even though she also knows he’s right. 

“Uhm, so yeah… Put that on and I’ll wait outside. There’s another hoodie in my locker, uhm on top, if you’re still cold.” 

“T-thanks, Jake.” 

A small smile is sent her way before he disappears out into the hall and closes the door, allowing Amy to let out a deep breath. Damn Jake Peralta for being so amazing.

**❄** **❄** **❄** **❄** **❄** **❄ ❄** ****

“Tadaaa.”

Jake’s head flies up, from where he was looking down at his phone, to witness a sight he definitely shouldn’t be loving as much as the butterflies in his stomach tell him he certainly does. There’s apparently something about Amy Santiago in his flannel and hoodie that does something to him; sweaty palms, speeding heartbeat and all that jazz. 

“How do I look?” 

Beautiful. He thinks but doesn’t say it out loud. There’s a teasing glint in his partner’s eyes, one he wants to fall and dive right into so badly, but he’s too aware to give into it. Amy does a pageant twirl and it couldn’t be timed any better, Jake thinks: it’s the perfect occasion for him to throw in a joke and break the spell that he seems to be under.

“Stunning,” he jokes and prays to some higher power that it’s enough to drench them in that never-that-serious, goofy energy they seem to be all about, even after the most serious and intense moments. “Like looking at myself in the mirror.”

She scrunches her nose and smiles, a face she always makes when he says something funny, and Jake doesn’t complain. “Ouch.” She says, pretend-hurt. 

“Hey! I’m very handsome, thank you very much…” 

“Whatever.” She shakes her head. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Don’t mention it.” He smiles, genuinely as only he can, and Amy wants to thank him for so much more than just tonight. She wants to thank him for always being on her side, always making her feel good in every situation imaginable, even the bad ones, and she wants to thank him for truly being her best friend. That would come off as a very emotionally loaded confession though, so instead she bites her lip. 

“Anyways… I think I’m gonna head home. I’m not really feeling like going back there.” She confesses. 

All at once the light and cheery Amy, the Amy that jokes and rolls her eyes at him, seems to be switched off and once again replaced by the hesitant Amy he rarely sees. The few times he has witnessed said hesitant and insecure Amy, without hesitation or questions, he feels a somewhat irrational need to help her, take care of the thorn in her side, whatever that might be. Although now, with a girlfriend, one that isn’t Amy, weighing down on his conscience, he isn’t quite sure of how to act. The thought of her sitting at home all alone while he and everyone at the Nine-Nine parties doesn’t fall on fertile ground. No way he’s just letting her walk out. 

“I’ll head upstairs with you and grab my coat, say goodbye to the squad, and then I’ll be off before I can embarrass myself again.” 

“Ames!”

Barely turned on her heels, Jake is significantly faster and manages to block her way to the elevator. In the depth of his brown eyes Amy, surprised to say the least, can see something unravelling. She’s frozen on the spot where he cut her off.

“Jake?”

“Stay? We can have a fun night without going back up to the party.” He flashes a shy smile that reminds her of the kind she and her brothers always used to flash at their mother whenever they knew they were bargaining for an unreasonable cause. Much like that Jake Peralta is indeed a child disguised as a grown man. 

“Stay?” There’s that stupid cute frown of hers again, he thinks and he actually isn’t quite sure of the answer. Jake had a bad case of blurting out ideas before being fully sure of what said idea fully was, and this was no exception. All he knew was that Amy couldn’t leave to be alone; he couldn’t have her spend the night doing nothing. 

“Uh- I… That’s not what I meant.” It kind of actually was, but he can’t force her to stay if she wants to go, which genuinely seems to be her preferred plan. “Let me follow you home - at least.” Nice save, he thinks to himself.

Her frown slowly melts away like snow on a spring day and, if he isn’t completely delusional, Jake can see a small smile rise on her lips instead and his new idea is actually a good one. 

“I would lov-” her voice hitches in her throat when she accidently looks right back into her partner's eyes, momentarily thrown off track, but in true Santiago-style she makes a quick comeback. Keeps the feelings abay and packed away like a pro. “That would be nice, Jake. Thank you”.

“Cool cool cool.” Skin against skin can be heard rubbing against each other, an unusual sound, and it confuses Amy for a second until she notices that Jake’s palms are rubbing against each other. A nervous mannerism on his part that has Amy wonder _why_. Not for too long though. Jake is quick to save himself. 

“Let me go grab our things upstairs. We can meet on the first floor. I’ll tell everyone you feel sick.”

“Thanks, Jake. My coat is-”

“Navy blue, gold buttons and black handbag. Got it.”

So far from a question as could be, a sentence that is more matter of factly than most things Jake says, Amy can only go silent and nod in agreement. The man is very right, after all and she feels fuzzy at how seamlessly it fell from his lips. They enter the elevator in a comfortable silence and after having stepped off on the first floor, Amy can only smile to herself as she sees the elevator doors close between her and what is probably the best partner in the world. Best friend, she corrects herself, reminiscing about Jake’s words from down in the locker room. 

**❄** **❄** **❄** **❄** **❄** **❄ ❄**

Snow crunches under their feet, the white powder covering every street in Brooklyn, and tonight the otherwise hectic city looks abnormally peaceful. Amidst the winter wonderland, two figures make their way through the drizzling snowfall, both imagining that this is the way things, perhaps, could and should be. Alone, together the two of them, in the world. 

Turns out that focusing on the story Amy is currently telling is, even though very interesting, very hard when snowflakes caught in her hair makes it look all glittery and pretty. Also soft, he thinks, and he hates that he wonders what it would feel like to run his fingers through it. Maybe as they were snuggled up on their couch, under blankets, as they watched those stupid Christas movies that he knows she loves. This trail of thoughts is a dangerous one, he’s aware. Luckily Amy herself comes to his rescue, her laughter shattering whatever parallel universe his mind was forming. Of course he laughs along even though he can safely say that he doesn’t know what he’s laughing at. Alone the sound of her laugh is enough to make him want to join. She’s contagious like that - in every way imaginable.

“Hey, Jake?”

She stops and him likewise. “Yeah?”

He turns around to catch her looking longingly at the building they’re currently in front of; a nicely decorated little café. “This place has the best cocoa. Wanna get some? My treat - now that you’re missing out on the party because of me.” She looks back at her partner for some kind of approval, shyly tugging her hair behind her ears in the process and there’s no way Jake can say no - even if he wanted to. The light coming from the café creates an aura-like effect around her figure and Jake swears to himself that she’s an actual angel. 

“Sounds good. Mostly because you’re paying,” he manages to snap out of his daydream just in time to come off as nonchalant, teasing, and the two enter the warmth of the café. Inside it’s buzzing with families and couples celebrating the season in each other’s company, and Jake briefly wonders if that will ever be him sitting with a toddler in his lap, allowing it to taste its first hot cocoa as him and the mother witness it with wide smiles on their faces? And with who? Sophia, maybe? Or maybe- no. Definitely can’t go there. 

“Two hot dark chocolate with marshmallows, please.” 

“Dark?” Jake frowns suddenly back in present time where Amy has made it her task to order their drinks.

“Yeah, they have different kinds but the dark is the best. Trust me.”

“With my life.” 

They share a smile and to everyone else in that room, or at least the ones that care enough to pay attention, they could be a couple - foolishly into each other. Before they know it they’re back outside in the cold, although they quickly forget as their respective cups of cocoa warms their hands, and soon after reach Amy’s apartment building. It feels like forever since they left the precinct, when actually, Jake notices when he checks his phone, it’s only been about an hour. Darkness does that to his already questionable sense of time. 

His deed is done, he knows; Amy is home safe, and he can head back to the precinct and party with a bunch of people he doesn’t really care about. Or at least cares just a bit less about than Amy. Suddenly the urge to party, act like an idiot and get drunk surely doesn’t sound tempting - at all. Maybe it’s the few hours he’s spent hanging out alone with Amy; perhaps it’s the taste of dark hot cocoa stuck on his tongue, the one he’d moaned about “indeed being the best he’d ever had” just minutes ago… He can’t figure it out but something from within the last two hours has him hating the thought of being anywhere else but here with Amy. If he asked her to hang out outside in the snow, he would. 

“So... “ Amy breaks the silence. “Thanks for walking me home… And the shirt and hoodie.You’ll have it back, washed and everything, tomorrow. Promise.”

Consistent as always, Jake thinks and smiles with amusement radiating from his eyes. “Yeah, I’m really going to need that back asap. It’s not like I have the exact same outfit, like times ten, at home… Like some cartoon animal.” 

She laughs, throwing her head back and Jake feels the snow beneath him melt. 

“Good to know.” She straightens back up, arms crossed to keep her warm, even though Jake is certain her smile must radiate enough warmth to keep them both warm.

“No worries.”

Silence swallows them and all there is to be heard is the sound of the forever and always buzzing Brooklyn; cars, people yelling, jingle bells, dogs barking and everything that makes Brooklyn oh so very Brooklyn. 

“Sooo…” Amy shuffles on the spot nervously creating small patterns in the before solid snow. “Are headed back to the party? I bet Charles misses you.”

They share a chuckle, both well-knowing she isn’t joking.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re right but... “ He hesitates to say it, nervously biting his lip as the hands in his pocket’s shuffle around for nothing at all. “I don’t think I’m gonna head back. I’m just gonna head home. Everyone’s probably all buzzed by now and I don’t think I’m up for the challenge of catching up.” 

“Oh… I- uhm-”

The shuffling only grows worse and it’s as if the young woman can’t find peace, bit by bit aggravating the guilt she’s suddenly feeling - a guilt he’d never intended her to feel. “Jake, I’m so sorry if you felt like you had to skip the party to follow me home. You should've just stayed behind and had fun with everyone. I would’ve been just fin-”

“Ames.” He gently grabs her by the upper arms, stopping her from spiralling completely. “Shut up.” He makes sure to smile when he says it. “I’ve had way more fun hanging out with you than I would’ve with those bazillion strangers back at the precinct.”

He can feel her shoulders drop, relaxing, before she flashes back a smile. A snowflake lands on the very tip of her nose and Jake smiles even wider. Little does she know why. “First of all: bazillion is not a real number. Second of all: if it was then I don’t think that many people work at our precinct,” she argues with a glimt in her eye that matches the snowflakes on her face. 

“How can you know if bazilion is not an actual number? A bazillion might be like.. 85?” He tilts his head in that challenging way he always does when he _knows_ he’s got a point. 

Silence. 

“You might be one of the Nine-Nine’s best detectives but, my God,I swear sometimes you’re so stupid,” she finishes with an affectionate chuckles.

“No doubt.”

They both laugh it off and it’s so them, they both can’t help but think. 

“Anyways… Feel free to say no, but wanna come up? We can finish our cocoas and watch a Christmas movie, maybe?”

There’s nothing he’d rather do. Without a doubt. 

“I would like that.”

“Okay then,” she agrees and unlocks the door to her building. “I’m not watching ‘Die Hard’ though.”

“Aw, come on, Ames!” he whines. 

“It’s not a Christmas movie and if you try to convince me otherwise, then I will prove you wrong. I have a list of arguments saved on my phone - solely for this very occasion.” 

“Challenge accepted!”

They end up watching ‘Home Alone’ instead, huddled up on Amy’s couch with each their blanket and hot cocoa, a friendly distance between them, of course, and if you were to ask them, they both had the best Christmas party-evening. They laugh their way through the movie and each other’s company, no complications in sight, and how they both wish, deep down, that everyday could be like this.


	2. my gift to you is all my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amy feels like Christmas is crumbling around her and when the stress becomes too much, boyfriend Jake steps in and takes care of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back to letsperaltiago's christmas calendar 2020!
> 
> I will post on both tumblr and AO3, and update the calendar (see picture on tumblr @letperaltiago) with every new opened door. I will also use the tag #letsperaltiago christmas 2020!
> 
> ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄
> 
> chapter two: dating

Christmas 2015 is the most special one so far, Jake dares to admit - and that’s coming from a guy who really couldn’t care any less about the season of families pretending to be picture-perfect and a 'shallow but pour some glitter on it'-kind of joy. Slap some red and green colors on an otherwise dysfunctional world and call it a happy place for a month or two. 

It’s not that he wants or aspires to hate Christmas; it’s not that he wants to be the cynical one in a crowd of happiness and optimism. There just happens to be a lot of wounds, never fully healed scars, from the many lonely Christmases he spent as a child and teenager. Between his dad considering his parental role a part-time job and his mother working full-time to make a living for them, there wasn’t much - if anything at all - for Jake to love about the holidays and more specifically Christmas. On the contrary, the season rather emphasized how dysfunctional his family was...

Perhaps this year, he really hopes, the season of joy and light will feel more… like a season of joy and light. This year he has Amy which is an experience he’s never, obviously, had before and something he’s more than excited to try. His girlfriend loves Christmas and hopefully, it’ll rub off on him even though he’s surely the Grinch in their relationship the second Thanksgiving hits. It’s almost as if, for a month or so, he and Amy’s dynamic is completely flipped upside down. Not that he's calling his girlfriend a Grinch! Although, a secret to no one, Amy does take on a more serious role in their relationship. All that aside: the second the holidays come around, Amy is the most bubbly and cheery about silly, in Jake’s opinion, stuff like napkin-like turkey, too many pies, secret Santas, seizure-inducing fairy lights, and the only thing worse than normal vegetables: baked vegetables… Meanwhile, he’d rather isolate himself in his apartment, with his mayo-spoonsies and Die Hard, as the delusional world outside goes on. 

Then again: he hasn’t had Amy around, at least as a girlfriend, before. 

It’s a few days before Christmas eve. An evening he’s not looking forward to since Amy’s leaving tomorrow to spend the day and weekend at her parents’ place - which means not with him, and it’s definitely activating his so far decently subdued inner Grinch. How come Christmas wants to come off as this super jolly season when actually it forces him to be away from his girlfriend? What a scam. 

About an hour ago he arrived at Amy’s place to find the door locked, which was weird considering that it was her precious day off. Luckily Amy’s already figured out that her boyfriend is of the clingy kind, which she enjoys, so she’s given him a key to her place. This so he can - quote Amy - “Come and go as you please. Like a cat. A really cute, hot cat.” 

He’d chuckled at her comment, then kissed her out of sheer happiness because he has a girlfriend that wants him to have a key to her place! A girlfriend who wants him to drop by and cuddle her, laugh with her and annoy her - whenever! 

And so here he is: flopped down on his girlfriend’s couch, watching Die Hard, since it’s the only Christmas movie he can stand to watch. He’d sent her a text telling her he was here, making sure he wouldn’t scare her whenever she was to arrive, but alas never heard anything back. This he suddenly realizes as Hans Gruber is taking the people inside of Nakatomi plaza hostage. He hopes she’s okay, suddenly feeling a bit worried. However, the feeling doesn’t last for long. Basically stumbling through the door comes Amy holding what looks like a thousand shopping bags, which impresses Jake so much that he misses the worried frown and sweaty glow on her forehead. 

Being the good boyfriend he is, something he takes a lot of pride in, he of course jumps from the couch to help her. “Hey, babe. Need any help?”

“No, don’t worry about it.”

His offer just barely manages to make it out of his mouth before she’s already dismissed him and disappears into her so-called  _ happy place _ \- in reality, a room dedicated to all of her books and crafts. 

Even though he doesn't comment on it, it's unmistakably unusual behavior for her. “You sure? I can do whatever you need; help you unpack, make you some coffee, look cute…”

In her little office, Amy is marching, all at once systematically and chaotically, around the room like the devil is after her. It’s as if he isn’t there, as if she’s avoiding him, and just barely takes the time to stop and throw him a vague glance. “Jake, please. I just need some space. I have presents to wrap and… stuff.”

Oh.  _ Space _ . The word doesn't go by unnoticed and makes Jake's stomach drop. Space is usually not a good word when coming from a partner, he’s experienced, and this time around it seems to sting that much more than back with Sophia. Is this the end of him and Amy already? 

Everything they've done runs through his mind with the speed of light. Things were going so well, he thought. Just yesterday they’d been snuggling on her couch, sharing lazy kisses and giggles as their favorite show (they have a show!!) played in the background. Things like “I love my family but I can’t wait to see you again after Christmas” and “Can you believe how far we’ve gotten since this time last year?” were said, making Jake feel so infatuated and sure. They'd even kissed and made stupid remarks at each other under the mistletoe Jake put up in the door frame leading to her bedroom. 

Now, suddenly, it seems as if he’s the last person Amy wants around. Without even consciously deciding to do so he backs away from the tiny office, thus allow his girlfriend some… space. God, he hates that word and every memory associated with it. 

Communication is key, Jake knows. However, it’s not as if it went well the last time he kicked down the doors when a girlfriend asked for space. Hence why he doesn’t dare to kick down any doors, literally or metaphorically, when the one to Amy’s office is closed. 

He doesn’t know what to do; he doesn’t know what he  _ can _ do? Make coffee - he can do that right? At this point, he isn't sure of anything. His heart starts beating faster and faster against his ribs, and  _ he knows _ it’s because, maybe not  _ that _ deep down, he’s afraid. Afraid of losing the possibly best thing that’s ever happened to him. 

Coming from behind the shut door Jake can hear thumps and paper rustling. Jake isn’t the big Christmas-connoisseur but even so, he finds, what he believes is, Amy’s present-wrapping abnormally loud and chaotic - something that seems as unlike Amy as can be. He’s brewing a pot of coffee, for the both of them, something he hopes will be well-received, when suddenly the sounds coming from his girlfriend’s furious wrapping-project goes silent. All at once, with a thump, as if she’s hit a wall. 

The silence lasts, and though Jake expects the rustling to pick back up any second, it doesn’t. He can feel himself grow considerably more worried. A big part of him, the one that’s still suffering Sophia’s actions even though he is fully and completely over her, haunts him. It feels a lot like being in a tug-of-war between pressing his way into the room, thus whatever is going on with Amy, and staying back and out of his girlfriend’s sudden need for space. 

What does it for him is the sound of a loud mix between a groan and a whine. He has to go in, he quickly decides. Gently he pushes open the door, just enough for him to peak his head inside the room, and the sight before him certainly doesn’t calm his nerves: Amy, sitting at her little office desk with her computer before her, with her face buried in her hands and ripped wrapping paper surrounding her. He can’t tell if she is, but just the thought of her crying makes his heart wrench. 

“Amy?” 

The way her posture completely changes in reaction to the sound of his voice, from hunched over the desk to sitting straight up, as if she’s hiding something surely can’t be good. Even though she tries to be discreet about it, Jake can tell how she quickly wipes her eyes with the back of her hands. In a motion she hopes is discreet but isn't. If Jake’s poor heart wasn’t scratching the bottom of his gut already then it definitely is now. Still, he pushes the door wide open and tries one more time with a voice so soft and attentive that usually only comes out when they’re being really emotional; something he’s trying to grow into and better at. For her. 

“Ames… Are you okay?” 

Even though there’s no one else but them in the apartment - hopefully, it is Brooklyn, after all - he closes the door behind him to give them some privacy.

“I’m fine, Jake.” 

Fine is definitely not how she sounds, a shakiness to her voice, and how she looks averting his gaze, rather diverting her eyes to her laptop screen. To make it even clearer she starts typing - she isn’t  _ fine _ . Anything that can keep her busy and from unveiling the true colors of the situation seems to be on her agenda.

The urge to back out is so strong, overwhelming, and Jake quickly recognizes the old, certainly bad habit. Although this time around, with Amy before him like this - hunched over and so far from the confident Amy he knows - he also feels the opposing yearning to stay and challenge his former habits. For himself, for Amy, for them - the best six months of his life. Seven, to be precise. The fact that he cares to keep up with this, how long they've been together, says a lot about where he’s at. With her he’ll count every month, week, day, hour, minute and second he gets to be with her. 

Emotions are key. He needs to do emotions - the very serious kind. 

“You’re…” he halts for a second, feeling as if he’s about to jump off a cliff - not that he's ever tried it before. But it must feel scary. Kind of like this right now. “You're not fine. Obviously.”

Slowly he walks towards her and, after hesitating with his hands waiting in the air above her, contemplating whether it's what he should do or not, he places his hands on her shoulders. The way she stiffens under his touch has him alarmed, but just as quickly as she's tensed up she relaxes. As if she realizes she can safely surrender whatever fears or worries she has to him.

“Tell me what’s wrong - please. Is it something I did?” 

“No, of course not!” She flies around in her seat to face him to hopefully undo whatever worries about them she's ignited. The first thing Jake notices then is her somewhat red eyes and a look that begs for him to believe her. Hesitantly, he does. Still, it doesn’t make the sinking feeling in his stomach vanish. 

Amy turns back around in her seat to face the lit laptop to hide. Frustrated she runs her fingers through her otherwise perfect hair and ruins her perfect ponytail; small tufts of hair on the loose and going in whichever direction they please. Something he's only used to seeing first thing in the morning or late in the afternoon before bed. And even though Jake loves sleepy Amy, morning hair, makeup-free face and all, he wants nothing more than to fix her hair for her, carefully weave the flyaways back into the otherwise still somewhat neat ponytail. 

“Ames, I’m just kinda worried. Tell me what’s up, please… Even if it has something to do with me.” His hands never let go of the soft grip on her shoulders as he says this. Right now holding on to her feels like the only grounding element in his universe. She suddenly feels tense under his touch again and he hates that he might be the one doing this to her. 

“It’s really... stupid.”

His eyes wander across the lit laptop screen in hopes of a possible hint.  _ USPS Tracking Service.  _

“I’m sure it’s not stupid, babe.”

“I just-” her hand reaches for the mouse but then hesitates as if touching it will expose her. Either way, she decides to go for it; she grabs the mouse and opens the program containing, what he recognizes as, her day to day calendar - the step down from her life calendar. "I bought this really beautiful necklace for my mom for Christmas…” 

He figures they’ve got some time ahead of them and gently pulls over an extra chair for him to sit on. In his seat next to her he follows the cursor on her screen, flying all over the different dates, boxes, color-coded labels and appointments - the many  _ perfect _ elements of a Santiago-calendar. 

“But then earlier, a few subway stops before home, I got an email from USPS saying that the package's arrival would be delayed! So I tried to work a timeslot into my schedule, for me to shop for a new gift from my mom, but it’s impossible." Every word flies out of her so fast she can barely catch her breath and the last part basically comes out of her in the tone of a wail. Jake can easily sense that she’s riled up and is making it hard for herself to calm down. With every word, she grows more and more frantic, panicky, as she switches back to the window with her calendar. What he sees shows, indeed, no room for gift shopping. He knows she thrives on it but he sometimes wonders how his girlfriend lives her life, densely packed, like this. 

“I knew it’d be hard to fit in, with me working a full shift tomorrow, the polar swim and then leaving for my parents’ right after, but I thought it'd be possible! Turns out it isn’t... I’ve tried to re-arrange the next 24 hours in my calendar in every way thinkable and  _ nothing _ works. Nothing.” 

“Honey...” he consoles, calmly placing a hand on top of hers. On his face is a small smile, one that can rest in the fact that there was indeed nothing wrong with  _ them _ , even though he of course feels some concern for his girlfriend who is clearly completely beside herself. Though she's finally speaking up rather than shutting him out, it's obvious that it doesn't come easy to her and there's a vulnerability to her panicky explanation. But it's not, never will be, something that'll scare him away. "... It's okay."

"No, it's not, Jake!" 

Yelling isn't exactly the right term but it's clear that the two are of a different point of view. 

"I had ordered my mom the perfect Christmas present, one that would so surely beat my brother David's, and now? It's ruined. I won't receive the stupid present in time and I don't have time to shop for a replacement, which, either way, will be less good. I might as well stay home for Christmas this year and spare myself the embarrassment." 

It takes a beat of silence for Jake to assemble his thoughts and form an answer. The smile from before is once again back; he knows how to kill her insecurities - with kindness. 

"While I would not mind you staying here with me..." He leans in to place a soft peck on her shoulder. "... I'm sure there's no way your mother would want you to stay away simply because of something as silly as a present - no offense."

"Jake, I appreciate your support but you don't know her like I do."

Though the situation reminds Jake of just how stubborn his girlfriend can be, something both frustrating but also endearing, he also remembers just how stubborn he can be. Maybe this time, for once, the latter can come in useful. If there's anything more stubborn than a panicked Amy then it's without a doubt a Jake who wants to see his girlfriend smile. He's a man on a mission - Amy's very own John McClane.

"Okay... I know I have a questionable track record but hear me out..."

She looks at him and for a second, upon seeing the anxiety in her eyes, he stutters to assemble himself one last time before showing her, at least trying to, that he can take control and help her handle her problems - even the worst which honestly isn't as bad as she might think. Softly, making sure to not alarm her, he reaches over to remove her hand from its tight grip on the mouse and replace it with his own. With it, he moves the cursor on the screen to point at the blue '9 AM to 5 PM'-time slot labeled  _ Work,  _ followed by a yellow _ 'Polar Swim' _ -slot at 5.30 PM.

"... I was supposed to be off a bit earlier tomorrow but let me fill in for you instead. You can leave at 4, go get your mom a gift, which she by the way will love, and make it back in time for the polar swim. I'll stay till 5 for you. I'll run the arrangement by Holt so you don't have to worry about it." 

The silence is loud but not loud enough to hide her thinking; it screams through the way she bites her lip and eyes wander all over his face in search of some kind of truth. She turns her entire body in her seat to fully face him and, somehow, she suddenly looks both cheered up but also remorseful. 

"Jake, thank you, but you don't have to do that for me. I know I'm just being crazy. My mom can do without a gift this year."

"Amy Santiago," he reprimands before grabbing both of her hands in his, making sure to keep a hold of her gaze in the process. "Maybe I don't  _ have to _ but I  _ want to. Ames,  _ let yourself live out the full 'Peralta boyfriend'-experience. Also, stop calling yourself crazy when, in reality, you just care a lot. That's good; to care like you do." 

Finally, after it being gone for so long, he catches a glimpse of her characteristic glow. Her eyes are also once again shiny and inspired, and he knows he's doing  _ something _ right. Everything within him wants to do right for her. For a moment they quietly stay back, in each their seat, and look at each other with admiring eyes. Both wondering how they got so entangled in the other's very much different lives. Yet both eternally grateful. Amy's the first to break and throws her arms around his neck. 

"You're the best, Jake," she declares with newfound peace of mind. "Thank you so much." 

"No need to thank me." His arms have returned the favor and are securely wrapped around her waist. He's forever sure; nothing feels better than holding her like this. Happy. They stay like this for who knows how long, for seconds or hours, until Jake suddenly retreats into his seat and offers her a cocked brow along with a teasing smile. 

"By the way... What's up with the wrapping paper-mess?"

"I had to test the new wrapping paper I got!" 

He chuckles. God, he adores her. 

"But why the mess?" He hicks a ripped piece of paper lying at his feet. 

"Turns out I've bought the worst kind of wrapping paper and I got... pissed." She timidly looks down but still smiles, Jake hopes it's because she knows he likes her love and passion for all things crafty. They go silent and he can tell she's thinking. She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, rather insecurely and not affectionately like she would with a double tuck.

"By the way..." She clears her throat then looks at him. Right in the eye. "I'm sorry for earlier. I didn't mean to cut you off and push you away like I did. That wasn't okay - at all. I just-" the words get tangled up and caught in her throat to which Jake reacts by reaching over and softly clutching her knee followed by a comforting squeeze. In his eyes, she sees an invitation to speak her mind and she wonders, every day, how she ever lived her life without him by her side like this. The least she can do is explain her actions, ones that were actually just caused by a stupid defense-mechanism.

"I just didn't want you to see this... unfavorable side of me, I guess. I know I can be a bit much."

"Amy," he coos hearteningly. "Of all the sides of you that I've seen, or you will come to show me as this relationship evolves, never have I ever found any of them unfavorable. You're not 'a bit much'... You're everything I want and need." 

Though he doesn't dare say it, not quite yet, this feels a lot like an undefined definition of love - one, he's quite sure, comes from everything she's taught him, shown him, and made him feel these past seven months. 

She leans over the gap between them. Their lips collide in a kiss so meaningful that it speaks louder and more clear than any words ever could. He tastes like cinnamon and coffee, and with him she feels safe, like there are no ugly truths about her for him to see through. Every day with Jake is like coming home is. It's no longer just unlocking and walking through a door: it's being herself, even during critical moments, and still feeling welcome in her boyfriend's embrace and eyes. Her hands cling onto his cheeks for dear life, pouring all her emotions into the soft movement of her lips, and it's the most accepted and cherished her A-type self has felt in a partner's presence. Who would've thought that this kind of string of emotions would be a reaction to the touch and care of Jake Peralta?

On his part, with the three magic words just barely clinging to his tongue, he internally decides to hold back and keep them for a more suitable moment. Even if, something he's learned from their relationship, there is no such thing as 'the right time'. 'The right time' is only a theory made up by hopeful, sometimes also hopeless, lovers. Much like themselves just barely a year ago. But with this one declaration, what he hopes will be the greatest  _ I love you _ of his lifetime, he does want  _ some _ control. The moment shouldn't be surrounded by ripped wrapping paper and tipped over shopping bags. 

Hopefully, she can wait just a bit longer. Then he'll tell her, even yell at the top of his longs, that he loves her. He loves Amy Santiago. 


	3. all i want for christmas is you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Amy celebrate an early Christmas together, just the two of them, before they're headed to the Santiago's. It's their first as a married couple and husband Jake knows just how to please his wife.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Helloooo! Better late than never, am I right? 
> 
> I've just been so busy and, mentally, in an awful place so I sadly couldn't keep up with the writing. But I'm good now and back. Also I do want to finish this project, so chapter four will be up on the 31st as a little New Years Gift :) 
> 
> !WARNING! This chapter does contain some smut so if you're not into that then feel free to skip it. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄
> 
> chapter three: married

“Why won’t you just tell me where we’re going?”

“Babe, just trust me, okay? You’re going to love it… and me. Even more than you already do.”

It’s a few days before Christmas, two days before they’re headed off to celebrate Christmas with the entire Santiago-bunch - parents, brothers, sisters-in-law, kids and all. 

For the time being, they’ve spent the last two hours driving God knows where. Or more like: Jake knows but she doesn’t and she hates it. Only because he assures her that, with those deep brown puppy-Peralta eyes, they’re headed on an “unforgettable Christmas adventure” does she get in the car with him. The farther away from Brooklyn they get, with nature growing denser with every mile, the more suspicious she gets. If it wasn’t her husband driving the car, through heavy snow, into the barely lit woods, then she would be fearing for her life. But it is her Jake, her husband, after all, and he looks at the road ahead with a certain glimmer and excitement in his eyes. A glimmer so contagious the slight worry is replaced with excitement. Is everything precise and planned like she prefers it to be? No, not at all. Does she trust her husband? Yes, of course. 

She’s quick to embrace her husband’s spontaneous side, the fact that he’s her very own antithesis, and leans back in her seat to look at the beautiful white outdoors. 

They arrive about half an hour later, Amy thinks, the darkness outside blurring her sense of time. Together they carry their weekend-bags, specifically packed by Jake for the trip, up some old wooden stairs to join the front door of a cabin that Amy, even in the dark, is pretty sure she’s  _ never _ seen before. One of a million curious questions is about to fall from her lips but never makes it past the idea-stage because Jake has already unlocked the door and behind it is a room that looks like a scene picked out of her dreams. 

Amy is absolutely, one hundred percent sure: she has the best husband in the entire universe. 

“Welcome to Mr. and Mrs. Santiago-Peralta’s first eh-  _ espoused Christmas getaway _ !” Jake exclaims in his best showman-manner way.

Hidden behind the exterior of an old, abandoned cabin happens to be the cutest, most wonderful and cozy interior. A fireplace, colorful and glittery Christmas decorations, beautiful antique furniture, books… The list just goes on and, of course, she shamelessly makes a note of how strategically, perfectly aligned with the fireplace the rug is. It takes her a split second to be convinced of the fact that it looks soft enough to cuddle - and other things - on. 

“Jake,” she gasps in awe and, there’s no holding back just how amazed she is, Amy throws her arms around her husband’s neck. A long, thankful kiss is initiated and happily reciprocated. Not even when she feels how cold, as a consequence of their little walk from the car to the cabin, his lips are does she pull away. On the contrary, Amy can’t wait to be the one to bring the heat back to them.

“Thank you. I love it here.” She pulls away just enough to be able to look at him in the eyes, golden-brown irises glowing from the sheer happiness that comes from being here with him. It’s infectious and Jake’s eyes and smile shine just as bright. 

“I hoped you would.” He plants his soft lips on her forehead and she can tell they’re already warmer than before. “Don’t get me wrong: I love that we’re spending Christmas with your family. But I did want to make sure that we got some time to ourselves first. It is our first Christmas as husband and wife, after all. Consider it a marital, romantic recharge before the storm.” 

Somehow the glow in his eyes grows even stronger, those special words still affecting him, even seven months later, and Amy only makes it better by cupping his face in her hands. They’re cold but he doesn’t care. Not as long as he can still feel the two rings on her finger against his skin. 

“I love that you considered that. I love you. ” 

He leans in booping the tip of her nose with his. “I love you too, Ames,” he declares and the only reason why he manages to not kiss her is that he has plans, an ulterior motive, per se. Plans that he knows she’ll love and want to get started on right away. 

“Truth be told, there’s one main attraction of this trip.”

Amy cocks an eyebrow like she always does whenever she’s unsure of what mischiefs and ideas he’s come up with. Nonetheless, she doesn’t say anything but,´“And that is..?”

“Come with me.”

There’s no time for further questioning. Jake has her hand trapped in his and tugs her in the direction of a dark, wooden door. He pushes it open and after quickly realizing that Jake is not just showing her the cabin’s bathroom, Amy’s jaw drops. 

“You got us a bathtub!” 

Excitement is very obvious especially when she instantly jumps him and traps him in a hug that almost has him tumbling over. After just barely restabilizing himself, and her, for that matter, she looks down at him from where he’s still got her hoisted in his arms. “Right now being a frilly person might just be the best thing to ever happen to me. I’m so excited!”

Jake laughs and puts her down. While he did know his wife would appreciate it, he clearly didn’t expect she’d love it, possibly more than him. 

“And I’m  _ freezing _ after that car ride so it’s even more perfect!” She squeals and pecks his lips. When she pulls back he’s frowning.

“Babe, I had the heat at maximum.”

“Jake. I’m cold. Bathtub, now!”

“Noted!”

❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄

“Come on, Ames. Get in here. The water feels amazing. And this salt stuff smells so good.” He grabs the container of purple salt from the edge of the tub to look at the ingredients. “Kinda makes me wanna taste it, yanno?”

Jake is already submerged in the tub, filled to the brim with warm water and Amy’s favorite lavender bath salt, and all there’s missing is his wife. The main character. She’s in the bedroom finding their towels. 

“Please tell me you didn’t eat it!” She calls out, genuine worry present in her voice.

“Pfff- no!”

“Good. Because if you have then we’ll be spending our romantic getaway in the ER and I’d rather not.”

“Smort. Good thinking. Now could my wife please get her naked, beautiful butt in here and join me.” 

Within a matter of seconds, his wish is granted. Beautiful as ever, his wife comes prancing into the bathroom wearing nothing but a happy grin and her hair in a bun. If he wasn’t already sure, which he was, Jake is now, even more, convinced: his wife is heaven and he never wants to leave this oasis in the middle of the snowy woods. 

“Scoot over, Mr. Santiago.”

“On it, Mrs. Peralta”

A chuckle is shared, both bursting with pride on the inside - taking each other’s names was undoubtedly a very good idea - as Jake scoots backward in the porcelain tub to make room. So fast and eagerly that the water almost forms a tsunami threatening to go over the edge. On her part Amy is much more careful, holding Jake’s hand for support, Amy treads over the edge and slowly sinks her body, slowly submerging herself. The warm water swallows her, lapping up against her goosebump-covered skin caused by the frisk air, and she’s where she’s supposed to be.

“Ohhh mama, this is so nice. So hot.”

“I know I am.” The teasing grin on Jake’s face makes it obvious that he’s very proud of his little joke to which Amy replies with an exemplary roll of the eyes. 

“Do I need to deflate your ego tonight, Peralta?” She sits down in the opposite end of the tub with a challenging, amused expression that leaves Jake hating the fact that she seems so far away and - even worse - out of reach. 

“What ego? I don’t know what you’re talking about, Santiago. I’m perfectly humble - as always.” 

A jocular silence washes over them but it’s too much to maintain and, like she so often does around her husband and his wits, Amy breaks.

“Shut up.” 

She uses her hand to splash water towards his end of the tub. 

“Hey!” He fails to dodge it, lavender-scented water soaking his face and hair, but he’s quick to respond. A swift reach gets him a grab his wife’s lower arm. “C’mere,” he groans and pulls her to his end of the tub, listening to her squeals and laughter that accompanies the sound of sloshing water. It’s far from elegant or easy but, somehow, rotating Amy’s body within the narrow space of the tub can be regarded as a success. Seconds later he has her reclined against his chest, her soft skin against his, and the feeling of her settling has them both fall silent. A big contrast to their bantering just seconds ago. This kind of switch of mood is no stranger to them though. Actually, it’s probably the fundament of their entire relationship. 

“This is nice,” Amy sighs happily, the steady rhythm of her husband’s breathing oscillating her, submerging them in a calmness that’s unlike anything she’s felt recently. With work being extra crazy around Christmas they haven’t had much quality time. Nevertheless, they’re here now and that’s what matters the most. Knowing that her husband is always so aware of what she needs, even when she doesn’t fully realize it herself, warms her heart beyond explanation. “And you know my favorite bath-scent, I see?”

“Of course.” He plays with her fingers. “I know everything about you. You’re like… the only test I’ve ever wanted to study for.”

“Jake, that might just be the sweetest and also hottest thing you’ve ever said. If I wasn’t  _ this _ relaxed and didn’t have the willpower of a pile of fluff, then I would  _ not _ just be sitting here.”

“Good to know. Keep that sexy energy stored for later.” She doesn’t have to be able to see his face to know he’s grinning knowingly. “I’m glad you like my little getaway-idea.” 

Drips, drops falling from him, make an appearance when Jake’s hands emerge from beneath the water, but even then Amy’s newfound state of ultimate peace remains undisturbed. She only falls deeper into relaxation when her husband’s hands - a personal favorite - latch onto her shoulders where they immediately, firmly yet softly and with all the affection she knows he has for her, start massaging the tired muscles and flesh of her upper back and shoulders. 

“Oh god.” It comes out as a moan. Not exactly with erotic intentions but sure Jake still feels his heart thumping just a bit harder against the inside of his ribcage. Nothing feels better than making Amy feel good. Loving her and marriage has really turned him into the most selfless man ever, huh? He could sit here and rub her shoulders forever, feel the water turn cold, without the favor being returned, and he would be fully content. 

“Feel good?” He chuckles before placing a soft kiss on the back of her neck. Amy’s hair is beautiful and he loves it no matter what, but there is something about a high bun and the skin it leaves exposed, leaving room for kisses and touching, that gains his preference. 

“So good. Thank you.”

Another kiss models itself on the first one. The mixture of warm water and her husband’s delicate kiss is all she needs for Christmas. 

“Merry Christmas, wife.” 

She can feel him smile against her exposed shoulder and even though she’s eyes closed, deep into a heaven of pure relaxation and bliss, she forces her eyes open. Her neck twists, enabling her to see said smile and return it. 

“Merry Christmas, husband.”

Amy loves her husband’s curls, more than anything and she hopes that, someday, their children will inherit them. This in mind, Jake’s wet hair sticking in every direction imaginable and onto his forehead, undeniably, does something to her. They’re able to hold the other’s gaze for a while, only for a few seconds, that is, before it becomes hopeless to stay apart and their lips meet each other. Just a soft peck. They pull back, water sloshing around them like a stupid gross metaphor for their love. Their grins are wider and more stupidly in love than ever before. 

“I love you, Ames.”

“I love you too, Jacob.”

To Jake’s honest delight Amy’s neck stays twisted and it allows him to admire her sharp, striking side profile that has him feeling like he’s dating a supermodel. Small frivolous tufts of hair frame it so effortlessly, clear drops of bathwater painting her skin, and so many more tiny details he could spend hours admiring, describing and thinking about. 

His wife is irresistible. She draws him in like a bee to honey; as she has since the day they first met - even though he didn’t fully realize it back then. Incapable of not doing so Jake, firstly, places a feathery kiss on her damp shoulder, drops of tepid water sticking to his lips as he pulls back before, secondly, pecking her cheek and then, lastly, the corner of her lips withing his reach. 

Amy untwists her neck and lies back down against him, allowing the water to swallow them both whole, only the very top of their torsos and knees poking out of the water. The evening-lull falls over them. Two bodies connected skin-to-skin, by love and affection, lie in the water for what seems like an eternity. Like an implicit deal, they’ll take turns stroking the other’s leg or make a remark that’ll make the other laugh as the steam from the water rises into the cool bathroom air. They can’t feel it though. The water and each other are warm. It’s simple, it’s very much married life, and it’s perfect. 

After a few hectic weeks at work and even more chaotic days with the Santiagos awaiting them, there’s something, something that is not just steam, in the air between and around them. Undoubtedly so. For Jake to last this long in a setting like this is, all at once so natural yet so rousing, without at least testing the waters - metaphorically speaking - is impossible. 

Kicking off an attempt at what could potentially happen, he starts off gently. 

“I’m really glad we get to do this,” he mumbles softly, almost in a whisper, with his lips pressed to the back of her neck. Letting them reside there, keeping the kisses falling, he lets the hand currently located on her knee lazily caress the area around and above it. Acting as if nothing special is on his mind.

“Mhhh,” Amy agrees, obviously not thinking much of her husband’s actions. “Our own little Christmas Eve.”

“Yeah...” The kissing of her neck doesn’t seize but rather relocates, kissing all the skin stretching from the back of her neck to her shoulder and back to the side of the neck where he then lingers. “Only the best for the best.”

In the meantime, his hand has clandestinely made its way out of sight; underwater up her thigh. Tracing small circles and squiggles. His free arm and hand are casually resting on the edge of the tub. Amy on her part doesn’t seem to notice, at least not right away, supposedly too relaxed and enamored by the fact that her husband has come up with this whole ordeal. 

“Agree. I think we might just be the best husband and wife ever. We deserve this.” A happy sigh follows her statement. 

“We do…” His hand never ceases moving upwards. Only when it reaches the meeting of her thigh and pelvis. “Especially you, Mrs. Peralta.”

Having finally noticed the journey Jake’s hand has been on, she suddenly tenses causing her hands to grab his knees on either side of her for support. He awaits a sign, a word, sound, or movement that tells him to stop. But it never comes. He feels encouraged to continue. His hand splays out across the very center of her crotch, right above where he wants to be. From where his lips are still stuck to the side of her neck, gently knawing, he can feel a hitch in her breathing. 

“You are the best wife in the entire world, babe. Can’t believe we’ve already been married for seven months. It’s incredible. You deserve the best Christmas present in the world.” 

Upon allowing his hand to slide a few inches downwards, he can feel the very top of her slit under the tip of his middle finger. 

“Kinda feels like you’re going to give it to me a bit early,” she lets out in a breathy chuckle before spreading her legs as far as the tub will allow. 

“Oh, babe, this is just the opening act.” 

“Sounds promising.” She’s barely able to finish her sentence before it’s interrupted by her own gasp. His lips have traveled upwards to find the magical spot right beneath her ear. A spot he knows she loves and will drive her mad if paid attention to - a tiny bite to this specific area of her body means there’s no turning back. As per natural reaction, her thighs attempt to spread even further. Only to be stopped by the tub. 

Feeling cued to do so Jake slowly slides his middle finger into her while the surrounding ones gently help part her lips. 

“Mmmm.” 

Drawing small sounds out of his wife is definitely just as good as touching her, Jake quickly agrees with himself. He’s quickly pulled out of his thoughts and back into reality when he feels Amy thrust, desperately chasing the feeling of his fingers. He doesn’t hesitate to add another finger and, as hoped, it earns him more tiny sounds that feel a lot like magic. The lips attached to her neck never stop working their way into her skin. Jake smiles into it as a thought strikes him, thinking of his fingers working her up. 

“I know it’s  _ dirty talk 101  _ to tell you how wet you feel but I honestly can’t tell right now.”

“Oh my god,” Amy bursts out laughing, Jake chiming in with a chuckle. “That is very real, babe. I honestly can’t tell either but feels good.” 

“Great. Then we’re probably doing something right,” he jokes before pecking the shell of her ear. 

“Yes- oh.”

His fingers draw another moan out of her and a smug smile, pleased to be pleasing her, hides in the side of her neck as he picks up the pace. Her small thrusts try to keep up but the slippery surface of porcelain and water makes it quite hard, Amy quickly learns. Sex in here screams trip to the ER, but guess she can keep going - just for a bit longer. 

“This is just what I needed, Jake.”

“The bathtub or the foreplay?” 

Slowly as to not slip he guides his free hand from its spot on the tub’s edge to her chest.

"Both.” 

“Noted. Delighted to please.”

Just the way he knows she likes it, he languidly starts caressing her breasts. Combined with the warmth of the water, the other hand that’s still taking care of her clit, this new sensation presenting itself on her chest has her body go weak, head lulling back to rest against his shoulder. It offers the perfect angle for him to kiss the top of her head as he goads sounds and smooth movements out of her. Progressing to pay attention to her nipples as well only has her intoxication build. Her chest’s heaving picks up momentum, simultaneous stimulation of both her clit and nipples making normal breathing seem impossible, to which she tries to cope by letting out small gasps. Jake takes it all in - touching her, the sounds, their surroundings - and he almost can’t believe how much he’s grown to love Christmas because of her. 

“Best. Christmas. Everrr,” Amy punctuates each word with small whimpers, the last word transitioning into a high pitched whine that lets Jake know he hit the jackpot. 

“And this is just the beginning, babe. We’ve got all night and all day tomorrow too.” He nibbles at her earlobe and gives it a small tug that matches his thumb and index finger currently milking one of her nipples. 

“Oh yeah, you think this is all we’re gonna do? This is a religious holida- ah, Jake.”

He grins at her attempt at being the saint she otherwise always is, but with one pair of fingers playing with her clit and lower lips, and the other with her nipples, it’s safe to say that he’s not convinced. 

“Oh, honey,” he pauses to bite into, hopefully bruise, the skin at the nape of her neck. As wished it does leave a red mark and earns him a soft, despairing whimper. “I saw the way you looked at the rug and fireplace when we first walked in. Don’t you think I know you’ve already imagined every single way I could make love to you in front of that fire? Lucky for you, Mrs. Peralta, I already lit it while the tub was being filled.” 

Only then does it seem to fully hit her that they have this entire place, the entire night, to themselves. Under a spell, next thing they know, Amy has straddled her husband's waist and water is violently waving, spilling over the edge of the tub and onto the bathroom floor. Jake has no time to fight it nor complain about his loss of touch. 

“Fuck,” she breathes in between kisses and the tiny waves coming from her grinding motions. Beneath her, she can feel her husband gradually, but quickly, grow harder and ready - more than he already is. Her legs barely fit on either side of him, but Amy Santiago is a determined woman. “I want my present  _ now _ . And I don’t want it here.”

She raises to her knees just enough to be able to grab his erection beneath her. Jake could burst right then and there, so much build-up having happened already, but he holds back and tries to focus on her voice rather than the way her fingers work his shaft. 

“We’re getting out of this tub and then you’re going to fuck me into that rug until every inch of my body is dry. And that is how you have a merry Christmas.” 

Her growling almost scares Jake, the determination in her eyes very clear, but he’s so down for it and everything that could possibly make her happy. It’s safe to say that they’re both so busy getting out of the tub that they need to cling on to anything within reach in order not to fall on their faces. 


	4. a merry little christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Baby's First Christmas and Jake and Amy are taking it all in - both presents and tiny surprises from their son.  
> Pure domestic fluff for days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY 2021!  
> I hope everyone entered 2021 safely and I wish you all a good year <3 He's a belated Christmas present aka. the last Chapter of my Christmas calendar. Enjoy!
> 
> ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄
> 
> chapter four: Christmas with Mac

Right then and there keeping a straight face, or just anything that looks somewhat close to it, is beyond impossible. 

It’s Christmas morning, six AM to be more precise, and the still rather new, little family of three is slowly making their way through the presents waiting for them under this years’ Christmas tree. As a matter of fact, it’s rather Jake opening gifts meanwhile Amy is on the couch with their two-month-old son eating his second breakfast - that is if his previous meal at three AM can be considered breakfast. Jake likes to call those meals  _ Midnight Mac Snacks. _

“They really need to communicate more,” Amy chuckles, which causes her chest to jolt just the tiniest bit, alas apparently enough that it earns her a grumpy little cry from Mac to which she immediately reacts by stroking and repositioning the tiny infant’s head. “No need to complain, Mr. Mac. Mommy and daddy are just having some fun.” 

“He’s bitter because all he got for Christmas is ‘Baby’s first Christmas’-ornaments.” Jake hasn’t stopped laughing since he opened the third ornament, from auntie Roro, which came after uncle Charles’ ornament. Upon unpacking this second ornament, from Charles, matching the first ornament from Holt, it didn’t cause much worry. The new parents simply saw it as a matching coincidence and they’d just keep both. Although upon unpacking a third one, they should’ve known: it was a perfect, hilarious 99th precinct-disaster. 

Fast forward to present time, Jake is sat on the living room floor with not three but six ‘Baby’s First Christmas’ ornaments for his son. Sure, they’re all different styles and designs but Jake can’t help but laugh. In retrospect, he and Amy had told the squad that baby Mac didn’t need anything grand for Christmas as he was still so small and had everything he needed so far. They told their friends to save the money and spoil Mac for next Christmas, a Christmas he’d understand much better than the current. Turns out great minds think alike and everyone’s creative take on Mac’s gift had been the same. 

“It’s kind of cute that they all had the same idea.” Mac has gone back to quietly suckling on Amy’s breast, allowing her time to chime in on perhaps this Christmas’ funniest moment yet. It’s too soon to declare it  _ the _ funniest as they’re headed to a huge Santiago Christmas-dinner in the evening and anything can happen there. 

For Christmas morning though they very early on, already before Amy gave birth, decided to stay home as they knew it’s what they’d prefer with their very new son. Sitting there, in the moment, looking at gifts from their incredible friends and Mac quietly eating in the lights coming from the Christmas tree, they’re both thankful to have made that choice. Sure, Santiago-Christmas morning was an event that you didn’t want to miss out on but this year, with very few hours of sleep behind them and vomit on both clothes and hair, it’s nice to be able to soak in the sweet surrender of their little trinity. 

“We do have the best friends.” He picks up the ornaments, hanging them on his fingers to put on display for his wife. “What do we do with these?” A sheepish smile replaces the goofy grin from before. 

“I don’t know…” 

The doubt on Amy’s face, biting her lip, thinking hard, is clear as day which is understandable since Jake himself doesn’t hold the answer for their little dilemma. Giving them back to their respective giver is not an option - what would Holt do with a ‘Baby’s First Christmas Ornament’? - and getting a refund also seems too cold. Fact is that each of their friends has had the same idea: they wanted to mark and somehow be a part of Mac’s first Christmas. Jake and Amy can’t, nor want to, take that away from their son nor their friends. All in all, there seems to be no good solution but one: keep all six ornaments. 

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Jake cocks an eyebrow, implicitly suggesting what his wife is already thinking. 

“If you’re thinking that we should keep them all and put them on the tree, then yes, I am thinking what you’re thinking.” 

At just the right time, almost as if he’s agreeing, Mac lets go of his mom’s nipple before letting out a small, hazy gurgling sound. A sound he’s never made before. Both parents freeze on the spot, forgetting all and everything about the ornament-issue. 

“Did you hear that?” Amy asks, making it sound as if she doesn’t believe her ears and a second opinion is needed. Having studied all and everything for her first child’s arrival, everything this could possibly imply, Amy shouldn’t be surprised that her two-month-old is finally introducing his first small noises. The fact resides very clearly on the  _ Milestones to Expect _ -index, page 2, in her ‘Two month’-binder. Yet here she is, Jake right there with her, surprised by this new accomplishment of her newborn - one of many accomplishments that she both loves and, even two months in, still is a bit nervous about discovering as she just rather know her baby fully by heart already. On those occasions where Mac’s changing, something she swears happens daily, makes her feel uneasy as if she doesn’t know him at all, she holds onto Jake’s reasoning:  _ Some tests can’t be studied for. _

And no matter how much she hates that fact, Amy knows her husband is right and she does love him for reminding her whenever she happens to fall down a spiral of doubt and frantically tries to grasp for the control that lies within facts, books, and lists. 

Jake jumps from his spot on the floor as if it were lava and falls into place beside her on the couch where he can hover over his incredible son. 

“I did but I didn’t fully realize where it came from right away, but oh my gosh, Ames! Our son is a  _ genius _ !”

“Perhaps… Or simply in accordance with average-”

“No, Amy - a genius! Like his parents.” 

Her husband looking as if he could burst any second, a firecracker of sorts and there’s no stopping the explosion, Amy hurries to put down her before lifted shirt and places Mac against her shoulder. Here she hopes he can both burp and, hopefully, make another glorious sound for them to be proud of. Jake leans in as though he and Mac are to exchange secrets behind Amy’s back and the milk-drunk infant, unable to control a whole lot, waves around his arm and just so happens to grab Jake’s index finger. During these first two months of Mac’s life, this has happened a few times already, the first time being at the hospital which caused Jake to cry happy tears Still, every single time, Jake feels reaffirmed by the fact that creating this tiny human being is one of his best decisions ever - that and telling Amy Santiago that he wished something could happen between them - romantic stylez. 

“C’mon, mister. Show daddy how you talk.” Jake coos even though the little man of the moment seems far from interested in or bothered by his parents’ admiration and swooning over his new talent. His mommy patting his back does feel good though, especially when it helps a burp escape and Jake, of course, has to laugh because Mac is truly and fiercely his son. “Now  _ that’s _ talking!” 

“Not what I had in mind but nice to know he’s burped.” Amy chimes in and replaces the soft patting with small loving strokes, hoping to soothe her boy to sleep as the next step in his ‘eat, burp, sleep’-routine - even if Amy wishes Mac would make another sound. Just to confirm that she wasn’t hallucinating before. 

“Make a sound for mommy, baby. Just a tiny one.” Amy takes her turn cooing a plea but it happens to be very much in vain. 

“Aaand he’s dozed off,” Jake chuckles quietly whilst using his thumb to caress the tiny fist still wrapped around his index fingers, a fist that doesn’t let go even though the owner is already fast asleep with a mix of drool and milk caught in the corner of the gaping mouth. 

“That was fast.”

“I don’t blame him. Life is exhausting.” Jake is carefully pecking his son’s head covered by thing, soft, black hair and even though Mac on her shoulder blocks the view, Amy smiles and wonders how she got to lucky with these two boys. 

“Bedtime?” Amy asks, expectant of confirmation of whether or not Mac is far enough gone to be moved without waking up and throwing a tantrum that’ll mean they’ll have to spend another half hour or so lulling him back to sleep. 

“I sure wouldn’t mind. I did prepare breakfast though.” It comes out mid-yawn, proving Jake’s point further, as he nods his head in the direction of the pancakes, courtesy of Jake, and hot cocoa, courtesy of the local bakery that has blessed their lives by opening at five AM, waiting for them in the kitchen. 

“Not you, silly. McClane. You and I are definitely having that delicious cocoa. The smell of it has been tempting me since I sat down to feed.” 

They mostly call him Mac. Mac or a thousand other things like Mr. Mac, Magic Mac, baby, monkey - one time, macadamia nut - and the options are limitless and renewed every day. Jake doesn’t know for sure but this might be the reason why the full name McClane being said, the context being that it’s his son’s name, makes him feel butterflies in his belly. Either that or because he still can’t believe they named their son that. Perhaps it’s a bit of both reasons. 

“Still can’t believe you agreed to that name.”

“Must’ve been a moment of weakness for me. I was pregnant and delusional.” 

Amy teases and proceeds to carefully remove sleeping Mac from his spot on her shoulder, relocating him to the safety of her cradling arms. 

“Delusional from the incredible round of sexy timez we had just prior to picking his name.” 

“ _ Jake _ ,” she scolds as if the sleeping baby, which doesn’t even grasp the concept of speaking yet, were to be scarred by their explicit flirting. 

“What?” 

Amy’s already up on her feet, heads down the hall and into their bedroom with Jake close on her heels. “I remember it so vividly.” Jake points to their bed. “We were right here, post  _ incredible _ sex, and we got talking about baby names because a new suggestion had stroked your mind right before I came in and wooed you with my good, amazingly hot looks.” Amy’s head whips around from where’s she’s just focused on placing Mac in his cradle, double-checking that he’s still asleep, now displaying a cocked brow and overall expression that challenges his recollections of that conclusive night. Defeat hits him and his shoulders drop with a sigh. 

“Okay, you were seven months pregnant and going through a particularly horny phase - which I, by the way, loved - and I, being a dutiful husband, couldn’t decline your explicit requests. But I do still stand by the fact that I boinked my way to the name McClane.”

“Oh my god,” Amy groans, partly in reaction to her husband, partly in reaction to her sore back making an appearance when she straightens up from tugging in the baby. “Stop besmearing our child’s name. I can still change my mind.” 

“I’m right though.” In the meantime, Jake has approached his wife and wraps his arms around her. Pulling her closer, back to chest, and she instantly relaxes under the pecks he places on her neck. “And it’s an amazing name for an amazing little human.” 

They smile in unison as they admire the life they created, carelessly and contently sleeping Christmas morning away, before them. Wrapped up in her husband’s arms and their perfect little son to look at, a fuzzy feeling that is way beyond and greater than happiness flows through Amy’s veins. The pecks to her sweaty and tired-feeling skin pick back up where they left off, systematically and how he knows she likes it, going around her neck and shoulder-area. 

“I really wanna give in to how inappropriately horny you’ve suddenly made me, but…” she trails off with a sigh. 

“You can’t stop thinking about the hot cocoa.” He finishes her sentence and the pecks are replaced by a muffled chuckle that tickles her skin. “It’s okay, Ames. I’m right there with you.”

“Thank God,” she groans.

“Hot cocoa and a Christmas movie we can fall back asleep to?” 

This suggestion of Jake’s that will allow Amy to give into her tiredness is what she’s wanted to hear all morning. 

“Sounds perfect. Grab the baby monitor?” She turns around to follow him back to their kitchen only to see him already holding the gadget with a tired, knowing smile plastered across his face and to Amy, even with his messy curls and shirt clad with stains of baby-vomit, her husband looks absolutely perfect. 

Baby’s First Christmas might just be her favorite Christmas so far. 

**Author's Note:**

> ❄ All kudos, comments and christmas cookies are so very appreciated ❄


End file.
